Author's Notes: Written for the Tech Discovery (next-gen) activity for Camp Potter

Write about Lorcan Scamander

)O(

Lorcan could not remember a time when he had not spoken for his brother.

Lysander was a silent creature, and he communicated with the twitches of his hands, the corners of his mouth, the space between his brows, not with words, and no one who did not know him to his very core (no one but himself, Lorcan thought proudly) could decode them with accuracy. When asked a question, Lysander would hang his head and murmur inaudibly, and his hands and mouth would tremble slightly, and then whoever had asked the question would turn to Lorcan helplessly. It had never mattered. Lorcan had words enough for both of them. He was happy to bubble and chatter away in a mishmash of his own thoughts, mixed with Lysander's. Lysander, for his part, always seemed grateful for it.

But there were times - just a few times - when Lorcan wished that Lysander would speak in words, words out loud, words that everyone could hear and understand.

Just once, Lorcan would like to hear "I love you" from his brother's lips, instead of simply knowing it from the way he rested his head against his shoulder. He wanted to hear it made clear, defined, spoken in such a way that it could not be misconstrued or refuted.

He suspected Lysander even knew that he wished for this, if not how deeply. Lorcan became morose when he thought abut it too long, and Lysander comforted him in his way by curling closer to him in their shared bed than usual, by tapping out gentle rhythms with his soft fingers against his wrist, perhaps even by whispering to him when they were alone. Never whispering I love you, but whispering nonetheless. Every word from Lysander was a treat, even if they weren't the words that Lorcan wanted to hear.

Lysander wished that he could tell his brother what he wanted to hear. He tried, oh, he tried, but at the times that seemed perfectly right (sitting in a tree with him, lying in bed with his head on his chest, curled together in their father's great armchair in the sitting room), he couldn't make the words come out. They stuck in his chest and his tongue went numb and he had to put all his conscious effort into not choking on it, and by the time the feeling had passed, the moment had passed as well.

Lorcan never told him he minded, but Lysander knew he did. He knew his twin well enough to see the little edge of a pout that crept onto his mouth every once in a while when they were together. But he couldn't force it out. He only prayed that Lorcan understood the things he didn't say as clearly as the things he should have.

)O(

Fin